Poison
by Writer of a Thousand Colors
Summary: She was born broken and cursed to remain broken, and yet no one saw the hairline cracks. They saw the pretty doll, and tried to protect it, even though it was already too late. This isn't your usual Snow White, and this is not a story with a happy ending


_Sleepy, sleepy. Tell me a story, and I'll go to sleep. I'll be a good girl and I'll obey you, truly obey you this time. I'll listen to every word you say, and believe it's all true._

_I'll believe you._

_I promise I will, no matter how big the lie becomes, no matter what anyone else says, no matter if it all blows up in my face. No matter if I turn out not to be a sweet little girl, a sweet and tamed little girl with nothing wild inside of me._

_I will believe you._

_Tell me a story and sing me to sleep._

----

Dying sunsets are red.

Ashes are black.

The petals of daisies are white.

Why did she have to say that she hoped her daughter's lips would be as red as blood? Blood is not something beautiful. Blood is death and life, yin and yang, because we need it, but if we spill too much, we are lost. It's warm and it spills and flows easily, tainting the air with the stench of iron and covers battlefields in an air of misery.

She was cursed to hunger for blood.

Why did she have to say she hoped her daughter's hair would be as black as the wood surrounding the window? Windows are meant to keep things out. We keep them shiny and polished and we can hide behind them, staring at the world through a shield.

She was cursed to be forever guarded.

Why did she have to say she hoped her daughter would be as pale as snow? Snow is icy, and cold, and distant. It's unwelcoming, and it does not like humans. Snow believes that humanity is a parasite on the earth; that we should not exist here, so the snow could fall, white and untouched.

She was cursed to be forever wary of humans.

And she was born, with lips red as blood and already hungry for it. With hair as black as the windowsills and already closing herself away from the world. With skin as pale and cold as snow, and her soul as pale and cold as her skin.

She was born as beautiful as a china doll one places on a high shelf, away from the dangers of the world.

But like all dolls, if you dropped her, she would break.

She was born broken and cursed to remain broken, and yet no one saw the hairline cracks. They saw the pretty doll, and tried to protect it, even though it was already too late.

----

She remembers the day her father married her stepmother, although she was but a child at the time. It was a beautiful wedding, and the new queen looked stunning in her shimmering white dress, a vivid contrast to her red and silky hair.

She remembered thinking that the queen's hair looked like blood, and it was beautiful. But she sat in the corner, and didn't say a word, even when the maids tried to get her to come out and play with the other children attending.

She was two at the time.

They said she was just shy, that she would outgrow her love of the color crimson red, that she would stop staring with hostile eyes when she was a bit older.

A bit older never came.

She continued to sit at the edge of gatherings, and glare at anyone that came near her. She was a gorgeous child, but she was cold. People would talk of her, say how she flinched away when anyone tried to touch her, how she never let anyone near. They began to call her the Ice Princess, the Snow Queen, the Untouchable Child.

She was almost glad when her father left on a long journey and her stepmother demoted her to maid. She could be alone then, and she didn't have to go gatherings and listen to the whispers no one thought she heard. She could ruin her beauty with no one scolding her, because no one cared what a maid looked like.

----

It is wasn't good enough.

She was still beautiful, and it made her furious. Making the child clean and cook wasn't enough to dull her looks, and she still was hostile and withdrawn, cold and distant. She was still untouchable, even though she was a common maid.

And it was infuriating.

The child was beautiful, it was true. Pale and icy cold skin, dark and silky hair, lips that were as red as the blood of a fallen soldier. A heart that was frozen and full of hatred.

Why was beauty like that wasted on such a cold and cruel child? She knew what the gossip was that the maids shared as they cleaned the corridors. The child had murdered another maid, she drank the blood of fresh kills, she stayed up all night, staring out at the moon as she cleaned her teeth and face of crimson blood.

That child would destroy herself. Children of blood, darkness and gore never lasted long here in a world of light and kindness. She wouldn't have to lift a finger to speed it along.

----

_I'll kill myself from the inside out, with my heart so full of doubt. I don't belong here, not at all._

_Why can't you see that?_

----

She left.

She knew that her stepmother wanted her dead. She knew what the others said about her, said that she was a murderess. That she would kill again, that she thirsted for blood as red as her lips, that she lured young men to her so she could kill them.

They were lies.

She loved blood, but she wasn't willing to dirty her hands to get it. She had no interest in young and dashing men, no matter how delicious their blood was promised to be. She wasn't going to kill; she would let others do that for her.

So she left the lies and the stories and went into the forest. She lived off animals she hunted, and slept in trees, drank from streams, hide in caves when it snowed.

The few times she went into town, she heard rumors of what had happened to her. She was unrecognizable by now; her hair was tangled and matted with dirt. Her pale and cold skin was flushed with cold and covered in scars. Her clothing was torn.

People stared at her as she passed, then went back to their stories of what they believed had happened to the Ice Princess, the child, now a woman, with a frozen heart and beauty that could make anyone swoon.

She was eaten by a bear.

She turned into a fairy and her heart was healed.

A prince found her and melted her icy heart.

She was found by seven dwarfs and tended to them, in return for protection, as the dwarfs lured her out of her hatred and into a bright world.

The last story was the most popular one, and she ground her teeth every time she heard it. She hadn't been eaten, she wasn't a fairy, she would never fall in love, and she wasn't saved by seven short little men.

She didn't need saving anyway. The forest provided to her every need; giving her meat, shelter, and water. She was safe so long as she continued to hide there. As long as she was fighting for her life almost every day, she was as safe as she had ever been.

Her beauty was lessened. Living in the forest had scarred her delicate hands; her body built muscle to fight off the creatures of night. Her hair was unevenly cut from when she slashed it with a knife; a scar ran down her left cheek and onto her throat from when a bear had found her and she had been forced to fight it. Her feet were tough and bare, her skin dry form constant exposure to the elements. Her skin was no longer icy and pale.

She was wild.

A wild princess, living in a wild world.

Her stepmother could be the fairest of them all.

Snow White just didn't want anything to do with the human world.

She wanted to be a wild child left to drink blood and watch the moon. Humans could have the world. She just wanted a small bit of it for herself, somewhere she could fight and live and die, if not in peace, then by herself.

Who needed humans?

They would kill her sooner or later, anyway. Nature was a gentler mistress and one she could love, who would kill her kindly.

Snow White was fine with dying.

----

_Poisoned apple, poisoned words._

_I don't need the apple to kill myself._

_I just need the curse._

_----_

**Author's Note:**

**I always hated Snow White...so here's my twisted version of her, who I like a lot more. Yep.  
**


End file.
